


A Place Called Home

by isawrightless



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:06:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6968233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isawrightless/pseuds/isawrightless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We should get a dog.”</p><p>    “Why?”</p><p>    He shrugs.</p><p>    “They’re cute.“</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place Called Home

I.

He comes home late. It’s almost time to start patrolling—-he takes off his shoes, his coat, and puts the grocery bags on the table.

He spots the red head he so dearly loves on the couch, wearing his favorite t-shirt.

It looks better on her.

"Babs?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the couch? You’re going to get a stiff neck.”

“I don’t care.”

“C’mon.”

He knows she’s tired when he picks her up and she doesn’t protest.

II.

One day, when breakfast is over and they’re simply enjoying each other, talking about nothing at all, Dick suggests:

“We should get a dog.”

“Why?”

He shrugs.

“They’re cute.”

“And that’s a good reason?”

“It’s part of the reason. They’re also fun.”

“And also a lot of work.”

“Good company, Babs, not to mention loyal. And if I’m not mistaken, you adore dogs.”

She smiles.

“But I already have so much work taking care of you.”

“Ah, yes, but I’m old and boring. We should get a dog to keep us company.”

III.

At dawn, when he comes back and strips off of his suit, vision blurred and body aching for some rest, he collapses onto her bed and expects to find her there, sleeping soundly, just as tired of Oracle as he is of Nightwing, but his hand finds only soft fur.

He opens his eyes, exhausted, and finds the stray they adopted a couple of days ago, Murray, snoring on Babs side of the bed.

“This is all your fault.”

He spots her near the doorway, making her way to the bed, the wheels of her chair scrapping the wooden floor. She frees her hair from a ponytail, caresses Murray’s head and asks for some space. Dick is surprised when the dog wakes up and moves to the edge of the bed, near his feet.

He squints his eyes as she makes herself comfortable under the sheets.

“That’s my shirt.”

She looks at him.

“Yes, it is.”


End file.
